


Right Now

by tidal_race



Category: Leverage
Genre: Comment Fic, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 21:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tidal_race/pseuds/tidal_race
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the prompt: Leverage, Eliot/Parker/Hardison, "If you don't stop tossing your hair, Eliot, I swear I'm going to cut it off while you're sleeping!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Now

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt: Leverage, Eliot/Parker/Hardison, "If you don't stop tossing your hair, Eliot, I swear I'm going to cut it off while you're sleeping!" over at http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/

Alec Hardison, hacker extraordinaire and usually awesome boyfriend, is about two seconds from snapping out, “You’re worse than a girl!” but two things stop him. One, there’s nothing wrong with being a girl in the first place, and two, even though Eliot also doesn’t see anything wrong with being a girl, he’s kind of old school about some things, especially when they’re said out loud (and Hardison could write an entire dissertation on that, if he was the kind of guy to write dissertations, but he could also write a dissertation on why you’re worse than a girl is on the tip of his tongue…)and he likes his arms attached to his body, thank you very much.

The problem is, when Eliot keeps his hair long, it tends to end up at the stage where the ends fly everywhere when he shakes his head. Man flips his damn hair more than a shampoo commercial. Parker has long hair too, but hers is long enough that it settles under its own weight and the ends stay where they’re supposed to, which is at the end, not whipping Hardison in the face. It wouldn’t be a problem if he and Eliot were just friends, with the kind of personal space that entails, but they’re not just friends anymore, and they’re enjoying some rare downtime, in some backwoods cabin Eliot drug them to, and Hardison is curled up on the couch next to Eliot, who is engrossed in a book that may or may not be written in Greek.

Every few minutes he flicks his head to get his hair out of his face, and it winds up in Hardison’s. Hardison is pretty sure he got a scratched cornea that last time. Right on schedule, Eliot starts to move and Hardison’s patience finally snaps. He’s off the couch before he can get smacked in the face again.

"If you don't stop tossing your hair, Eliot, I swear I'm going to cut it off while you're sleeping!"

Eliot’s face changes rapid fire from aggravation at being disturbed from his reading, to confusion at Hardison leaping off the couch like his ass caught on fire, back to aggravation.

“Say that again.” Eliot challenges.

Hardison has his mouth open to do just that when he sees Parker peek down from the rafters with the kind of look on her face that says she’s deciding whether to get in the middle or run as far as she can. He deflates instantly. Eliot turns to see what Hardison is looking at, and catches sight of Parker too, perched lightly and ready to move in any direction. There’s still a thunderstorm on his face when he turns back, but he grabs a hairband out of his pocket nonetheless and roughly pulls his hair back.

Parker flips out of the exposed rafters and vaults over the back of the couch to land lightly at Eliot’s side. She pats the spot on her other side, giving Hardison a pointed look.

Not one to deny his lady anything, he very carefully settles himself back on to the couch, warily watching Eliot from the corner of his eye. He’d already gone back to his book, very clearly trying to ignore them both, but you never knew.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Eliot grumbles as Hardison tries to settle in comfortably without jostling anything. He stretches one arm over the back of the couch without looking and tugs Hardison towards Parker, who easily accommodates by curling farther into Eliot’s side. They end up as they often do, with Parker leaning against Eliot, his arm around her, his hand resting lightly against Hardison’s shoulder where it’s leaned into Parker, and Parker’s feet tucked under Hardison’s thigh. It says things about trust that Hardison knows better than to say out loud that both the hitter and the thief let their mobility be hindered like that.

He’s still going to pay for the threat to Eliot’s hair at some point he’s pretty sure, but at that moment, curled up with his people and his computer, some point doesn’t matter that much. He’ll take as much right now as he can get.


End file.
